


I'm broke but I'm not broken

by mendystar1



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt, Post Reichenbach, Song Lyrics, pre S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mendystar1/pseuds/mendystar1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lyrics of a song by Artist Vs Poet coinciding with the feelings of two men. Two men on the opposite sides of Europe. One fighting through grief while the other fights in order for them to be together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm broke but I'm not broken

_I'm broke, but I'm not broken._

> John stood in front of his best friend's grave and tried to think  of words he wanted to say in order to say goodbye but all he got were words he wished he had said when _he_ was alive. 
> 
> John could feel the tears starting to form and he fought with every fiber of his being to not break down. He was a soldier. He faced criminals, war battles and death, he could handle one goodbye.
> 
> But he couldn't.
> 
> And the tears fell.

_Like the mirror I stare into: distorting my own view of how I see myself, so untraceable to everyone else._

_Shattered pieces fell as I tell myself that everything is alright._

_As I stand here left with nothing._

> Across Europe, Sherlock was tying up loose ends. With help from  his annoying brother Mycroft, Sherlock has been able to track down and get rid of potential threats within Moriarty's web that will most likely go after John.
> 
> After a day of stalking his target and spending 4 hours waiting in a smelly alleyway. Sherlock went back to the cheap motel room his brother had paid for. Going to the bathroom, Sherlock looked  at himself in the motel's cracked mirror. He looked at his shortened dyed curls, the bags under his eyes from the nightmares of death, blood, John, always John, dying at his feet, and most of all, saw the slight tremors that have resurfaced after his last kill.
> 
> He focuses on his breathing, in and out, nice and slow in order to keep the tremors down.
> 
> _'It's alright Sherlock. Everything is going to be fine.'_
> 
> Sherlock can feel tears streaming down his face as John's voice washes over him. The tremors cease with each tear that falls off his face.
> 
> "He's alright."
> 
> Sherlock brings a hand to touch his broken reflection in the mirror.
> 
> "I'm alright."

_I'm broke but I'm not broken._

_\---_

_It's not erasable, I'm miserable as hell._

_As the pages turn, I begin to learn that I have every reason to resent myself._

> "You just want me to say it out loud don't you?" John whispered. His therapist didn't say a word. It felt like the silence was engulfing him. 
> 
> "Sher-." John stuttered, feeling his heart speeding up and his breaths getting shorter. "My best friend..." John can feel a tear falling down his face. A dam that opened as the words continue to spill from his lips. "Sherlock Holmes died because I wasn't there to protect him."

_I'm broke but I'm not broken._

> _"_ I wasn't there to save him."

_Don't take this away, cause I need it._

> "John. We have to talk about this sometime." Greg knew better than to push John. Especially when John was in his military stance; back straight, fingers trigger ready and his eyes that projected a man that wasn't afraid to make the choice between life and death.
> 
> "There's nothing to talk about Greg. I know it was your job but it didn't have to go like that. We could have helped him. _I_ could have helped him."

_And I can't let go of this feeling._

> "I know. I know it could have been handled better but John, you can't let this eat at you. You're barely living, you have to let him go."
> 
> "No."
> 
> "But Joh-"
> 
> "I said no."
> 
> John walked away and that was the last time Greg heard from him.

_And these walls, they fall and my time is slipping further. I can't fight it._

_I stand outside of my front porch and look at photographs of when things seemed simpler._

> John stood in the empty flat of 221B. After reading Sherlock's will and proclaiming John to the owner of all of Sherlock's assets and belongings. John had reluctantly called Mycroft in order to get rid of everything. He couldn't look at _his_ things without thinking about _him_. 
> 
> John picked up a framed picture of him and Sherlock. The only picture that didn't show Sherlock scowling while wearing that ridiculous hat. John smiled, 
> 
> It was after a case. Mrs. Hudson had borrowed Mrs. Turner's camera stating that she wanted a picture of her 'boys.' They took turns taking pictures. Mrs. Hudson with Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson with John. And finally, John with Sherlock.
> 
> _"Smile boys!" Mrs Hudson said before frowning as Sherlock gave her a look. "Just think about those murders Sherlock."_
> 
> _"Yeah Sherlock, smile for once." John said, smiling a bit after seeing Sherlock's dismay._
> 
> _"I see no reason for me to smile in such a forced setting."_
> 
> _"This isn't forced Sherlock. If this was forced there would be a gun to your head or a bomb to your chest."_
> 
> _"Now that would be exciting."_
> 
> _"You big git."_
> 
> _CLICK_
> 
> _"Mrs. Hudson!"_
> 
> _"Well you boys weren't smiling anytime soon!"_

_But I pushed away, so this is where I am. At a different place where I lost track and everything's not alright._

_So I'll stand here left with nothing._

> John placed the photograph back down onto its rightful place on the mantel, a small smile on his face from the memories. 
> 
> "I guess this is goodbye."
> 
> John stepped out of the flat, closed the door and never went back to 221B Baker Street again.

_I'm broke, but I'm not broken._

_Don't take this away, cause I need it. And I can't let go of this feeling. And these walls, they fall and my time is slipping further, I can't fight it._

_I'm holding on to what I know, don't wanna change._

> "Hair fibers found on the window sill. Dust patterns reveals that the furniture has been moved recently. It was the babysitter." Sherlock exclaimed, head turning to his right to find no one there.
> 
> _'Brilliant.'_
> 
> Sherlock closed his eyes. It's been a year since he faked his death, leaving every thing behind and began tearing down Moriarty's web. Sherlock kept forgetting that John was no longer with him. Beside him. By his side. 
> 
> ' _Amazing.'_
> 
> His own beacon of light.

_I may be wrong, but after every word that's spoken. I'm broke, but I'm not broken._

_Like the mirror I stare into, distorting my own view of how I see myself, so untraceable to everybody else._

_Shattered pieces fell as I tell myself that everything is alright._

> The nightmares are overtaking him. Sherlock's sleeping patterns were bad before the fall but after, it got worse. With the nightmares, he only got about 1-2 hours of sleep at most and with his brain constantly running thoughts, the nightmares became daydreams of hell. He would sit, hiding most of his features in the far corner of a cafe, head facing downwards to read a news article someone left behind when the dream pierces through him and all he sees is blood, death and the blank eyes of John Watson.
> 
> It's not that Sherlock was scared of death. He lived in it. Thrived in the puzzle of it all. But the first time he pulled the trigger and saw the light go out from the man's eyes, he inadvertently projected John's face onto his.
> 
> The time that John spent in making Sherlock human is now  the very thing that is breaking Sherlock apart.
> 
> _'_ _Alone is what I have. Alone protects me.'_
> 
> _'No. Friends protect people'_
> 
> _"_ Mycroft, I need to see if John's okay. _"_
> 
> _"_ You know the deal Sherlock, not until you've completed your task."
> 
> "I can't do this anymore. I need John. I _need_ to see John."

_As I stand here left with nothing._

> "Sherlock."
> 
> " _Please_."

_I'm broke, but I'm not broken._

> _"_ I asked you for one more miracle. I asked you to stop being dead."
> 
> "I know. I heard you."

_Don't take this away, 'cause I need it._

_And I can't let go of this feeling._

_And these walls, they fall and my time is_

_Slipping further, I can't fight it._


End file.
